forecast: snow

the sky is a dilated
microscope
of the white
bell
caps
singing
in
moss
this
morning.

they come
exquisite,
a fresh
breath
each
time
of
first
milk,
planted
some
fairy
time
long
ago,
the
homes
of
scampering
night
spirits.

dew,
that
evanescent
visitor,
glamours
cloud
and
moss
this
day.

when
they
predict
snow
we
now
know
they
are
not
talking
sky
they
are
talking
about
these
otherworldly
visitors
of
brightness.